


Electronic Reconnaissance

by thatmasquedgirl



Series: Felicity Smoak, Technical Advisor [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Rewrite, Episode: s01e04 An Innocent Man, F/M, Humor, Mystery, One Shot, POV Felicity Smoak, POV Oliver Queen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmasquedgirl/pseuds/thatmasquedgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak is one-of-a-kind.  Oliver should really start remembering that.</p><p>A side story in the "Technical Assistance" universe that takes place after Chapter 10 "End User Feedback." Reading through the rest of the series first is highly recommended.<br/>A gift!fic for all of my readers.  Thank you for Technical Assistance's 8000 hits on AO3 and 150 reviews on FanFiction!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electronic Reconnaissance

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! Seriously, I can't get over how much positive feedback I receive on this story. It makes me sad that I'm not keeping up with reviews/comments as well now that I'm busy, but I thank you all so much for the love and support! :) Because of your awesomeness, have another TA side story! I don't usually write in Oliver's perspective for the main storyline, but I thought it would be an extra reward. :) Reviews and comments are much appreciated, but I understand if you don't have the time. :) Thanks for reading!
> 
> 6-8-17 Update: Thanks to AlexiaBlackbriar13 for the epic fanart below.

 

* * *

 

Oliver sighs as he finds himself outside Felicity's window for the third night in a row.  Ever since he heard the voicemail she left him, he's been trying to call her.  When she didn't answer after twenty missed calls, he supposed she wanted to see him in person.  His first try was three nights ago, and, if she heard his knocking at her window and his phone calls, she ignored him.  Unfortunately, though, Arrow business called, so it didn't last too long before he had to leave.  The same thing happened last night, too—and that time he stayed long enough to know it would be impossible for her to ignore him.  Saphira pawed pitifully at the window all night, and Felicity avoided her room altogether.

He's hesitant to do it because he thinks she might be trying to sever ties after he screwed up so badly as the Arrow, but he shows up earlier this time, just after nightfall.  He knows he should probably let her go if that's what she wants, but he can't bring himself to do it.  He knows she's just mad at his Arrow persona—and not at her friend Oliver Queen—but he just can't stand her to be angry with _any_ of his personalities.  On top of that, she was the only woman in his life who he hadn't screwed up a relationship with, and he can't let it go over something so trivial.  Thea wants him to open up about the island, though he's not ready.  His mother wants him to spend more time with her, though he can't because of Arrow business.  Laurel wants him to be her friend, but he needs to let her go for his own sanity.  And Helena—well, he's fortunate he hasn't yet received a crossbow bolt in his back.  (Diggle _still_ hasn't let that one go.)  Felicity is the only one who doesn't demand things from him, and he doesn't think he can help the city without her any longer.

Then he wonders when Felicity Smoak became such an important part of his life.

Unexpectedly, the door to her bathroom opens, and she steps out of the room in pajamas.  Her shirt features a stick figure in a cape, but he can't quite read the caption.  The pants feature similar stick figures in purple shirts, and he realizes he probably shouldn't analyze too far—this _is_ Felicity, after all.  She towels off her damp hair as she walks into the room absently, and he notices that she doesn't look all that different without her makeup on.  Apparently she doesn't wear much.

She jumps when she finally sees him standing there, the towel in her hands falling to the floor.  He can't hear her through the locked window, but the hand over her mouth makes him think she's stifled a scream.  Eyes narrowing in a way that tell Oliver he's in trouble, she charges toward the window, flinging it open.  "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" she demands as she motions him in.

She waits to continue her verbal assault until he manages to stand upright in her room, and he can now see the caption on her shirt, and the stick figure with the cape proclaims, "I wear the cape, I make the _whoosh_ noises."  She pokes a fingernail painted lime green into his chest, and he wonders if the color is a coincidence.  "You don't go around staring into people's bedroom windows!  I thought you were sort of stalkerish before, but you've just taken the creep train to Creepy Island, buster!"  She crosses her arms over her chest.  "Now, why are you staring in my window like a creepy-creep-creep?"

He tries to ignore the barrage of words that always seem to make him smile.  He masks the grin on his face and chooses to respond, "I've been trying to contact you for three days."  He doesn't mean for it to be accusatory, but it comes out dark despite the voice modulator that's supposed to keep emotions out of his voice. It doesn't seem to work when Felicity's around, though.

Felicity isn't amused by the change in conversation.  "So that's how you're going to play it?" she asks, her voice a little high and loud, the way it does when she's angry, apparently.  He winces, but thankfully she can't see it under the hood and mask.  "You're going to pretend that this is all _me?_ "  She pokes his shoulder again.  "Because _I_ am not the one who said they'd help, and then did _absolutely_ nothing!  Also—fun fact— _I'm_ not the one creeping into people's rooms at night!"  She sighs, turning away as she holds a hand to her head.  "I don't like feeling spied on."

Oliver doesn't like this.  They're not supposed to argue.  He's supposed to give her absolutely no reason to trust him, and she's supposed to do whatever he asks anyway because that's just the way their partnership works.  But he screwed that up, too—the same way he screws up everything.  He knew that allowing Helena to be a part of his life would end in destruction, and apparently he's called it right.  There's no way around this argument unless he tells her who he is, and he's not going to put her at risk like that.  Her knowing affects _her_ safety, not his; he knows she wouldn't tell anyone, not after all of this.

"I made a mistake," he admits, and it's the hardest thing he's ever had to say.  "I trusted Helena Bertinelli when I shouldn't have."  He trusted Helena when he should have trusted Felicity.  He should have parked her in the nearest jail, but he foolishly thought he could _save_ her.  But Helena didn't need saving—she needs revenge, which she'll get with or without him.  He understands that now, and it hurts to realize just what a fool he's been.

Some of that emotion must come out in either his voice or the set of his shoulders, because Felicity's expression changes instantly.  She doesn't seem angry or hurt anymore—just sad.  Her mouth turns down and her eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before she lands unceremoniously on her bed, sighing deeply.  It scares him how she looks, as though she knows exactly what he was thinking:  _I should have trusted_ you _._  But she doesn't say anything except for, "I might have overreacted that night.  I just thought that it would tear Oliver to pieces that the girl on his arm nearly killed his mother, if he found out."  Another loud sigh.  "And I would have contacted you sooner, but my... _brother_ "—she seems uncertain about the word usage—"has been staying with me.  Barry has been here since that CNRI banquet, and I couldn't exactly call you while he was here."  She hesitates.  "You know, a little faith goes a long way."

He looks at her expression, and she pats the bed next to her in an unparalleled display of trust.  He does as she demands, hesitant.  He opens his mouth to speak, but she holds up a hand.  "No, I'm not done yet," she insists.  She looks at him intently, as if she's trying to examine his eyes.  "Did you really think I'd quit helping you like that?  That I'd just up and sever all contact, without any warning whatsoever?"  She crosses her arms.  "Because I wouldn't.  I'd tell you we were done, and then I'd throw you out of my window."  He snorts at the exaggeration.  "Despite everything," she says slowly, rolling the words around as if she's trying them out for the first time, "I think I trust you.  And that should scare you just as much as it scares _me_."

For a moment, Oliver doesn't say anything because he can't think of any words.  His mind is completely devoid of all thoughts except one:  _She trusts me_.  And it terrifies him because everyone who has ever had faith in him, ever really _believed_ in him has been disappointed.  His father wanted him to run the company, and he knew his father felt betrayed when he said he wouldn't follow in his father's footsteps.  His mother expects him to settle down with a pretty girl and give her thousands of grandchildren to faun over, but he doesn't know how to tell her that the _last_ thing he wants is for someone to be dependent upon him.  His sister wants him to simply open up and talk to her about the island, but he can't even admit most of what happened to himself yet.  Laurel wanted to marry him, and he repaid her by sleeping with her sister.  And, last but not least, Sara.  All she ever wanted was for Oliver to love her, but he messed that up by causing her death.

And, now Felicity puts her faith in him, even after he screwed things up with her; sleeping with Helena felt like he was betraying Felicity.  It feels similar to all his past mistakes, but different at the same time.  Finally, he says the words that he needs—but doesn't want—to say:  "Putting your faith in me will only hurt you."

She almost looks angry now, as she fixes him with the most intimidating glare he's ever faced.  "You think I don't know that?" she asks flatly, and his head snaps up in surprise.  "I know there's a possibility someone in this..." She trails off, motioning between them awkwardly, as if there's no term to describe their relationship.  Admittedly, Oliver thinks there probably isn't.  "Whatever we are, there's a possibility for one—or both—of us to get hurt.  Emotionally, physically—one of us _will_ get hurt.  But, you know what?  I don't care.  I actually feel like I'm _helping_ people when I'm doing work for you.  I accept whatever happens now, and damn the consequences."

It's then that Oliver decides this relationship isn't like any other.  She doesn't know who's under the hood.  She doesn't know anything about this side of him, and she isn't asking because it doesn't matter to her.  On the other hand, she considers Oliver Queen so much her friend that she'd threaten the Vigilante about going after him, and that she'd send the Vigilante out to get justice for what happened to his mother.  And, because she is working with the Vigilante, Oliver knows she isn't doing it for the glory—or money; it's clear she doesn't want his.  She genuinely wanted to help him in the only way that she could.  It's an amazing feeling, he thinks, to know that he can depend on someone to put his own needs before theirs.

She seems a little awkward when Oliver takes too long to respond.  "So," she says, rising suddenly from the bed, looking around the room, "why are you here?  Anything for me to cyber-analyze so that you can use the information to—"  With awkward, jerky movements, she mimes shooting an arrow in a way that makes Oliver cringe. "You know," she continues with a shrug and a self-conscious smile, "to put arrows in bad guys?"

Oliver hesitates before finally admitting, "I just wanted to make sure I could still count on you."  He rises from the bed, suddenly feeling the trust she displays by allowing this conversation to take place in her bedroom.  "I should go."

"Wait!" she calls, voice rising, and he feels her hand fall on his bicep.  Her grip is surprisingly firm, but she releases when he turns back toward her.  Suddenly shy, he watches as she bites her lip before finally adding quietly, "I just wanted to say..."  She hesitates again.  "You can always count on me to help you.  That's important.  You can trust me."

He doesn't know what compels him to do it, but Oliver places a hand on her shoulder, the area between his thumb and his index finger fitting into the space where her neck meets her shoulder.  "I trust you with my life, Felicity," he insists, and he watches her eyes go wide.  Suddenly there's too much emotion and tension in the room, so he says, "We'll be in touch.  Goodnight."

Before she can even respond, he's out of the window and into the night.  When he returns to the lair, Diggle smiles and shakes his head.  "Never thought I'd see you like this," he comments to Oliver.  He demands further explanation, but Diggle won't clarify.

So he vents his frustration as he spars against Diggle with a length of steel pipe, and he can't contain his smile when he sees the ex-military man hit the ground.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Felicity feels much like she's been called into the principal's office as she knocks on the door leading to Walter's office, summoned just after hours and after the crowd has cleared out.  She knows she has nothing to worry about; she's an exemplary employee, but it still makes her nervous to be called in by the _CEO_.

When she walks in, Walter is at his desk, looking over some sort of report, judging by his reading glasses.  "Thank you for coming, Felicity," he says and Felicity can't decipher his tone.

She can't stop her response.  "If I'm here because you're going to fire me," she says in a rush, "I'd like to first say in my defense that I'm the best IT consultant you have.  That includes my so-called boss"—she makes finger quotes around the word—"and all of my coworkers.  I really like it here and I don't exactly want to start over in a new city, but I still have Intel, AMD, and Microsoft _begging_ me to take a job with them.  No offense, Mr. Steele, but you'd be a fool to fire me.  And I don't think you're a fool."

He seems a little stunned, but he sounds unruffled when he replies, "I _would_ be a fool to fire you.  But I'm not terminating your employment here, Miss Smoak."  He steeples his fingers.  "In fact, you could say that I'm offering you more opportunity at your current position."

"Oh," Felicity replies sheepishly as she sits down at the seat across from him.  "What can I do for you then, Mr. Steele?"  She shakes her head.  "And, um, sorry about that rant.  I've never been called up here before—I just assumed that you were firing me."

He sighs in a way that indicates defeat, and Felicity feels sorry for him.  Whatever is happening, it's clear that the man has a lot on his plate.  "I've been looking for someone I can trust on a very sensitive matter," he declares finally, "and it occurred to me that my stepson has become quite fond of you."  Felicity turns crimson and prepares to defend herself, but Walter continues, "You've clearly been a good friend to him.  Since he returned from the island, Oliver has been very hesitant to trust anyone.  Yet he speaks very highly of you.  If you have earned Oliver's trust, then you most certainly have mine, as well."

Felicity nods.  "Good to know, Mr. Steele," she says, "but I'm not sure I know what this has to do with anything."

Instead of responding, Walter removes his glasses, pinching at the bridge of his nose.  "My wife," he starts slowly, "invested a large sum of money from the company into a friend's startup fund—or so Moira tells me."  Felicity freezes, thinking she's found herself in the middle of some sort of Shakespearean drama.  "I've traced the funds for the sake of the upcoming audit, only to find that they lead to an LLC called Tempest."

"That isn't under the Queen Consolidated banner," Felicity blurts, and Walter looks impressed by the statement.  She had memorized the Queen Consolidated companies ages ago so she knew which companies were calling to offer her jobs, and which were work-related.

"Indeed," he agrees, tilting his head to the side.  "I've since investigated, and..."  He hesitates.  "I assume I have your full discretion, Miss Smoak?"

Felicity nods, knowing it's the only choice.  "Absolutely," she assures him.  "I promise not to tell a soul."  She's not sure if she likes where this is going; when they were trying to find the corporate spy last year in the IT department, they weren't even this subtle.  She doesn't know what Walter is going to say, but she does know she isn't going to like it.

He takes a deep breath.  "We've already found that Tempest purchased an old warehouse in the Glades.  I went there myself."  It surprises Felicity; most CEOs aren't so hands-on.  Clearly this is a big deal, or he wouldn't be doing it himself.  "Because I respect the friendship you share with Oliver, I won't tell you what I found when I managed to enter."  Felicity stands stock still, not believing his words.  This task has something to do with Oliver.

He pinches at the bridge of his nose again.  "Though I trust you to remain quiet, let it suffice to say that, if you knew the contents, I would be forcing you into a difficult position with my stepson.  And you remain too loyal an employee for me to force your hand.  At any rate, I sent our head of security to retrieve the contents of this warehouse, and I believe he was killed for it."  Again, Felicity stills, knowing that whatever Walter asks of her will be dangerous.  "I'd like you to investigate further into Tempest," he finally asks of her, "but I wanted you to know of the risks before you accept."

"I'm a computer geek, Mr. Steele," Felicity replies, waving her hands awkwardly, "not a private investigator.  I'm not sure what you want me to do."

"Yes," he agrees, "but that's _precisely_ why I've asked you for help.  Most businesses leave a trail across the Internet—in one way or another."  She already understands the subtle request he's going to make.  "Though it's not always _publicly_ available, I believe you might be able to find the path."  He casually passes a piece of paper her way.  "I think you're more skilled than this, but—just in case—I've prepared a document that might help you, should you need it."

Felicity looks it over, frowning as she realizes what it is:  a get-out-of-jail-free card.  Basically, it's a signed form stating that Walter threatened her job at QC if she didn't hack into the corporation.  Because of that, if she gets caught, he'll be the one going to jail, and not her.  It's an incredibly selfless gesture, and she suddenly likes Walter Steele even more than before.

"Mysteries were made to be solved, Mr. Steele," she replies finally, and she can see the relief in his expression as he lets out a long sigh.  She holds up the document he gave her.  "I'll hold onto this, but I won't need it."  She thinks it's probably better than telling him that she's been hacking the SCPD database for the Vigilante regularly, and, compared to that, his request will be a cakewalk.  "I'll let you know what I have as soon as I have it."

"Goodnight, then, Miss Smoak," he replies casually, clearly dismissing her.  "I'll hope to hear from you soon."

"I won't let you down," she promises before walking out.

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